She Came Back
by Camsen02
Summary: Ib always wondered why she came back...what did the forgotten portrait mean to her, and why was she having so many mixed feelings about it? Was she forgetting something very important? Set after the "Forgotten Portrait" ending.


I do not own Ib! The amazing Kouri does~

Enjoy!

* * *

Prologue:

She had come back, back to the gallery of Guertena. She didn't know why she came back; she wasn't even particularly fond of art. As all remained a question, she found herself standing before a very familiar painting…the one she had looked at for nine years now, since her first visit to the gallery.

She remembered visiting it along with her parents at the age of nine, but other than that, everything was gone. She couldn't remember what she was doing there; only that she was standing right in front of a large painting called Fabricated World. She didn't know the exact name back then, but has been looking at it fairly often afterwards. She felt uncomfortable in the presence of that particular painting, so it wasn't her favorite.

No, she was currently standing in front of her favorite painting, as mentioned before. It would be the first thing she'd go to when entering the gallery, and her parents had long stopped going with her, since she was eighteen now. Though, this time, they had decided to tag along, but she didn't really care about that.

Once stepping inside, the only thing she cared for was…_him. _The forgotten portrait, as it was named. She could stare at him all day, like the freak she was. She knew he wasn't real, knew it was just a painting, but each second, each look, she felt sorrow beyond words. It was the only painting that could make her feel like that, and she hated it, yet loved the painting.

It was of a young man, presumably of her age. He had curled lavender hair with a few darker streaks at the top of his head, and his eyes were closed, head looking down at a red rose in his left hand. The rose was positioned so as she couldn't see his mouth and his skin color was smooth and beautiful. He was wearing a long, tattered coat and a green shirt inside. Beside him at the left were many blue roses, matching to the whole blue-tinted painting. In a few words; it was stunning. The man was breathtaking.

The red rose was oddly familiar, as well as the young male in the painting. She felt like crying each time she saw him, yet she couldn't look away. She had to see him each time. It was inevitable. Her heart was racing, and one feeling from another rushed in and out of her at lights speed. It felt unreal.

Another thing she hated was that sometimes, she would break down and cry like a little girl without even knowing why. It frustrated her beyond words. What did this painting mean to her anyway?

She stretched her arm out, hand ready to touch the painting, but stopped. She had this crazy urge to touch him, hold him, hug him, but that wasn't possible. Besides, people weren't allowed to touch the art, and she was no exception.

One time, she even apologized to him, and at that point, she was seriously beginning to feel like a freak. It was like she had forgotten something very important…something that had happened nine years ago, on her first visit to the gallery. But no matter how much she thought, nothing came. It was all blank. At one point, she wanted to leave this place forever and never come back. But that went down the well quickly, as she found herself there a week later.

There was nothing she could do; the painting was like a magnet.

_The forgotten portrait…_ She actually thought it was quite ironic. She had this feeling, that she was forgetting something important, as mentioned before, and the portrait was named forgotten….forgot…

"Ib!" Someone shouted, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She turned around, and saw her mother and father standing one meter away from her. They were both tense, and looked worried.

"Yes, mother, father?" Ib answered short and direct.

"…Ib, honey, you have been looking at that painting for two hours now…don't you think it's time to leave? Your dad and I have looked through the gallery twice, and it is getting late." Her mother said.

"Yeah, Ib, we know this painting means a lot to you, but we visit it almost every day…" Her father added.

Ib sighed, not feeling like leaving, but not feeling like staying either. What mixed feelings she had…

Sighing once more, she agreed, only asking for five more minutes to look at him…

"Sure dear, we'll wait for you outside in the car."

"Remember, five minutes." Her father said a bit tired, wanting to get away from the all too familiar place. Once or twice of visiting was fun, but one hundred and so?

Ib nodded, and her parents left, leaving her alone with the forgotten portrait once again.

Looking around her to see whether anyone was watching, she placed her small hand on the frame of the painting after deeming it safe, giving him a small, but genuine smile.

"Why, oh why do you make me feel this way…?" She whispered so only he could hear.

Small tears began to form in her eyes, and she whispered, once more, before leaving;

"I'm so sorry…so sorry."

As she turned to leave, she missed the small tear forming at the corner of his visible eye.

* * *

Author note: THIS IS NOT A ONE-SHOT! IT WILL CONTINUE!

Thanks for reading! Please RxR! Who knows, the next chapter might come faster if you do? xD


End file.
